It's unbelievable, really, finding yourself standing here before him.

Your confident fingers are a lie; unbuttoning his shirt is probably the most exciting and nerve-wracking thing you've ever done, but it's off the next moment.

He helps with yours.

Hands are free to touch but he chooses to kiss you instead; a slow, indulgent exploration, your face in his hands.

You hum contently, encouraging this side of him.

His kisses linger and there is the briefest moment of pause; the deepest understanding and appreciation for what is here between you.

There are no words. You are lost for them anyway.

With hands on his hips, you pull him to you, thumbs dipping into his jeans.

Guiding him, you lie down, holding his sides as he lowers over you; indenting his skin with your fingertips. And he's kissing, hot, on the side of your face.

Your hand then travelling along, stopping at the small of his back – palm flat, fingers spread – pressing him down, and arching up just that little bit.

And you close your eyes against the desire; the first sharp surge of what's to come.

Air rushes into your ear - your name. It sounds like relief, like he has been desperately waiting for such intimacy.

And you're listening, feeling. Breathing it all in.

He shifts and when you open your eyes again he is there above you.

And as you look at him, there is realisation that this moment is perfect.

There remains only truth.

You love him. And he loves you. So much.

You can see it.

The love and adoration in his eyes is breathtaking, and you can't help but smile at him.

He's beautiful, and incredible, and yours to keep.